


A Tamer's journey

by Bleebo



Category: Monster Crown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleebo/pseuds/Bleebo
Summary: Just a little bit of writing I wanted to do, might make more. Not any real depth to the story currently, just a pretty standard adventure.





	1. Prologue

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta do better than that!”

Triangular teeth chomped down hard on empty air, as the smaller of the two creatures waltzed through the air and away from its foe. A calm breeze blew through the area, sending rippling waves through the bloodied grass. It was just before noon, with the blazing sun shining overhead; A perfect time for a battle. 

The Hooclaw zipped in close, a malicious cackle sounding from its wide mouth. With a deft swing, it opened up a brand new gash along the snarling Teedon’s flank. The blue saurian responded with a quick kick, scratching the back of the Hooclaw’s head and releasing a cloud of black mist. Chris winced and stepped forward in alarm, only to have a strong hand settle on his shoulder.

“Relax, champ, they’ll feel better after some rest. Show me what you got!”

With a nervous nod, the boy held a hand forward to command the vicious little fiend.

“Hooclaw, use Scythe Slice!”

“Teedon, body tackle!”

This time, the little dinosaur leapt out of the way as the air was cleaved apart. It responded with a full-body tackle, sending the spirit flying across the field. Chris stuck a nervous finger into his mouth, idly chewing on the nail. The scythe-wielding spirit straightened itself, red eyes glaring at its foe. For once, the grin seemed to have faded from its mocking visage. Black mist continued to flow from the gash, spreading outwards as the tangible spirit ‘bled’ from the site of the swipe. Issac held a hand out to pause the battle, signalling for his Teedon to back down. The armless dinosaur snapped at the air furiously, before retreating to sneer at its adversary. Large nostrils flared in frustration as it restrained itself from assaulting the other monster.

Chris jogged towards his wounded monster, quickly examining its injuries. It was a lot harder to tell, as compared to a living animal, but he came to the conclusion that Hooclaw was fine. The monsters could both battle for a little while longer. He spared a glance at the bleeding Teedon that his father was tending to. 

While Teedon looked worse for wear, the wounds across his blue scales were all superficial. The tenacious dinosaur had gotten the upper hand in the exchange by landing its savage tackle. The boy cringed as the monster’s powerful jaws snapped shut an inch from his father’s nose. If it were to attack either of them, he doubted the other could pry it off. Teedons were known to be relentless beasts, measuring two solid feet of muscle and determination. They had their weaknesses, as did every monster, but they were a bit hard to spot.

“Looks like they can both continue. You ready to get back in there, champ?” 

With an uncertain nod, Chris reached out to stroke his freshly-contracted monster along the tail. He flinched as the monster twitched, half expecting the cold blade of the scythe to descend on his fingers. Hooclaw cackled softly, savouring the reaction. They still had a long way to go to establish a bond. Trusting his new partner to get back into the fray, Chris retreated to take his place by his father once again.

“Will Teedon be okay?” he asked, rather worried for the little guy. While the creature didn’t outright belong to him, Chris had been around the monster for a few years now. He had come to like the little fella, as scary as he was sometimes.  
“Relax, kiddo.” Issac gently clapped his son on the shoulder, motioning to the larger monster. “He’s been through much worse. Monsters are durable, he’ll be fine after a good meal and time to lick his wounds. I haven’t dealt with a Hooclaw before, but I'm sure he’ll recover even faster.”

The two combatants circled each other, with the hovering spirit flashing its teeth once more. The bloodied edge of its blade caught the light, glinting wickedly as it bobbed back and forth. While the two were only a couple inches apart in height, the dinosaur was quite a bit wider. Heavier too. The Teedon could easily halt and chomp down on the Hooclaw's blade in a real fight. Much to its chagrin, it had been given specific orders not to maim. Bite and release, none of the signature grappling its species was accustomed to. 

Issac watched as the two monsters danced about, each awaiting further orders. He glanced at Chris out of the corner of his eye, tapping his feet apprehensively.

“… Hey, kiddo?” 

“Dad?”

“You sure about Hooclaw? I know it’s your first monster and all, but… We could get you another one. That test wasn’t accurate anyway, and haven’t you always liked Seycret? I’ll give you a bunch of contracts, just…”

He tapered off upon seeing the hopeful expression on the young boy’s face. Of course, he hadn’t expected that to work. A first monster was usually something deeply meaningful to aspiring tamers.

“Hooclaw was what it said I should have. I like him, he feels special.” 

Issac sighed in resignation, casting a suspicious glance in the little miscreant’s direction. Hooclaws weren’t exactly known to be child-friendly. Not the ideal choice for a starting monster, considering the trouble they could stir up. Too late to get rid of it, though, the kid was already attached.

“Alright. I trust your instincts, you’re gonna be a great tamer. Just keep an eye on your partner, okay?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically and thrust his hand out. 

“Hooclaw! Another Scythe Slice!”

“Swipe!” 

Teedon was closer on the draw this time, nailing the spectre right in the chest. The smile was knocked right off the Hooclaw’s face, as a two-toed foot slammed it into the ground. The snarling biped teetered forward, its foe pinned beneath its grip as it went in for a bite.

But the Hooclaw’s goading and glaring wasn’t for nothing. It had been watching and planning the whole time, its scheming little mind put to work in figuring out its foe. The scythe lunged out from beneath the restrained creature, warping and reforming unnaturally. The tip of the blade darted forward in an almost imperceivable flash, stabbing into the Teedon’s cracked torso and coming away wet with blood. The creature backed away with a frenzied scream, quickly doubling over in pain and toppling off its foe. Hooclaw zipped into the air gleefully, swishing the scythe about and going in for the killing blow…

“ENOUGH!” 

The force of Issac’s shout was all it took to repel the monster. Cackling gleefully, it floated away to savour its victory, levitating in little circles around a concerned Chris’ head. The older man scooped his thrashing Teedon up, casting an unsettled glare at the vicious spirit. The malicious expression gradually faded into one of smug self-assurance, as it flicked its scythe clean onto the dirt. Isaac squinted at the monster, gently caressing his wounded partner. It hadn't taken long for the Hooclaw to discover Teedon's fatal flaw. All members of the reptilian species had some sort of crack along their torso, exposing soft flesh beneath. Perhaps it was some kind of vestigial remnant, or a mutation passed down over generations. Whatever it was, it made them vulnerable to powerful strikes— or particularly well-placed ones. Chris approached his brand new partner.

“Good… Good job, Hooclaw.” 

The young boy quietly reached out to stroke his monster, before guiding it along and following his father indoors.

Being a Tamer wasn’t as easy as he thought. He kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring the maniacal giggles of his new companion as he stepped into the humble farmhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey. Thanks for reading, it's pretty short. Do leave feedback and all, it's my first time writing and uploading actual fanfic. Hooclaw was the popular choice, so I opted to pick it as the MC's starter. Definitely wanna go bigger with battling scenes and all, in the future.


	2. The First Step

* * *

Chris woke up at the crack of dawn, to the sound of a frustrated Hooclaw scratching at his window. The little creature had a dissatisfied look on its little face, which faded as soon as it spotted its conscious tamer. Abandoning its efforts to break out of the room, the Hooclaw flew over and gently ran the blade across the back of Chris’ neck; Not hard enough to hurt, but cold and uncomfortable enough to remind one that it _could_. The youth held a hand to the spot and shuddered, promptly opening the door for his monster to float into the hallway.

Two plates of sizzling bacon and sunny side ups were already on the table, courtesy of mom. Sitting on the rug was the ever-present Dilla, spaced out as usual and with a trickle of drool extending onto the wood. Hooclaw lunged towards the creature, stopping the blade just short of its face. When the devious spirit failed to get a reaction, it tried again, and again, unable to get so much as a blink from dopey old Dilla. Chris couldn’t help but laugh at the sorry sight, and the offended look on Hooclaw's face.

Speaking of Hooclaw, it seemed to be back in fighting shape. The leaking wound in its body sealed up overnight, and it was back to zipping around the room, as though fresh out of the crate. Teedon looked to be in good condition as well, heartily crunching on mushy pumpkins outside. Chris glanced out the window and watched as his dad worked the fields, accompanied by the Primigon he had contracted the previous week. The bulky beast was acclimating well to life on the farm, though he had spotted it butting heads with the wild ones on the edge of their land every so often.

“Morning, Chris! Today’s the day?”

He gave his mom a quick nod, running a hand through his messy bed hair. While the occasional neighbour that stopped by tended to remark on his resemblance to Issac, it was unmistakable that his shock of red hair had been passed down from his mother. He quickly forced it into place before Hooclaw got any nasty ideas about cutting it short.

“I’m a little scared. What if I take too long? Or get lost?” he said, shifting nervously in his seat. The boy refrained from eating for the time being, waiting for the whole family to arrive.

Mom turned the stove off and slid the contents of the pan into the final plate. She draped her apron over her chair and quickly crossed the room, gently ruffling Chris’ hair and undoing his progress in smoothing it out.

“You’ll do great! We wouldn’t be sending you out if we didn’t believe in you. Hooclaw can keep you safe, he proved that yesterday. And you’ll get to tame even more partners on the way.”

The hovering spirit turned away from the curtains upon hearing its name. It cackled softly and flew circles around her, leering at the woman from above. Chris was just about to respond when Teedon burst through the doorway and took his place next to Dilla. The dinosaur held its mouth open to demand a piece of bacon, not quite satisfied by the meal of orange gourds it had just enjoyed. Issac followed close behind, peeling his boots off and heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“Hey there, champ, G’mornin. Big day today,” Issac remarked. He settled into the chair and picked up a fork, savouring the smell of breakfast. It would be the last meal they shared as a family for quite a while.

Chris tucked into his eggs first, watching as his father tossed the largest piece of meat towards Teedon’s gaping mouth. Here he was, about to leave his childhood home and go out into the world for the first time.

The farmhouse was a modest little home, with two chimneys spouting wisp of smoke into the pristine countryside air. Dad had bought it with money earned from his past, and refurbished much of the ancient building himself. The decaying roof was replaced with fresh brick tiles, and the floorboards were ripped up and fixed anew by hardworking monsters. It was just the right place for windmills too, with the constant breeze rippling across the homestead. The old windmills were torn down and reconstructed, now turning constantly and providing them with a steady supply of flour and grain.

Growing up on a farm was fulfilling, but he had always wanted to go see the big city. The young boy quickly finished up his meal and unceremoniously dumped the plate in the sink, facing the door with bated breath.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom called, hurrying towards him, “don’t forget your pack! I’ve made you lunch, and there’s a few contracts in here!” She gently slung the pack around Chris and leaned in to hug him. Dad was soon to follow, wrapping his arms around the both of them.

“You can always come back here, okay? We’ll keep your room ready for you. Any new monsters you’ve got, just send them here for us to take care of. The barn should be fixed up in a couple weeks, then you can use it.”

The three separated from the lengthy hug. Issac pushed the door open after double-checking that Chris had the pearl snugly in a locked box. Even Teedon tottered towards the hallway to bid Chris goodbye with two hearty snaps of his jaws. The redheaded youth took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.

Chris walked past the yellow flowers lining the road and watched as several birds scattered into the air. Gazing down the path, he could already spot a solitary Primigon drinking from a puddle. Hooclaw whizzed through the air eagerly, cleaving great arcs with its lethal blade.

With a nervous glance back to his parents, he headed down Windy Province and towards the distant bridge. All his previous trips had been with his father, and the route felt quite a bit lonelier with nobody to talk to. Hooclaw didn’t make for the best travelling companion, constantly trying to attack birds and cut down flowers. The contracts rustled in his pack as he made his way down the winding path.

It was time for his journey to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got no idea what Mom's name is, so I'm just leaving it as 'Mom' for now. Will come back and pepper it in when I find out. Phew, next chapter is gonna be about the first route, and some actual monster encounters. This one was meant to be more about Chris and the family, so it's a little slower and shorter than battles and exploring might be. 
> 
> Also threw in a little joke about the breeding system, because I thought it was funny. Should be an easy spot ;)


	3. Cutting To The Chase

Trees rustled in the ever-present breeze, their shed leaves floating through the air and settling on the verdant grass. Hooclaw seemed to be making a game out of them, looping around and cutting them apart as they fell. He seemed a bit restless, halting in front of Chris’ face every so often to goad him. The boy followed the familiar route unsteadily, expecting a monster to come charging at any moment. Wild Apo grazed behind a stretch of fences, beyond the boundaries of what constituted the farm. He watched one lift its head and look behind it, before abruptly scampering off. The rest of the herd was soon to follow. Chris shifted his focus to whatever they were running from, immediately smelling it before he saw it.

Apo Lazarus. 

The creature shambled along, its head drooping pathetically. This one looked like it had been this way for several days now, and was already falling apart. A particularly weak specimen, very much not worth contracting. It stood quite a bit larger than Hooclaw, at three feet— neck included. Its white iris turned to face the duo, trembling terribly as it began to approach. Chris noted that the tail of the beast was gone, with nothing but a noxious stump remaining. He had never liked these beasts. They were living corpses, so who would want a monster like that? His dad’s claim that: “Every monster has something special!” didn’t seem to apply to this one. Chris didn’t quite buy that the shambling corpse would make a good partner. 

Though, it wasn’t as slow as one would expect a zombie to be. The beast picked up speed and bounded over the fence, landing unsteadily before them. The creature’s movements were jittery and unstable, front hooves almost giving way before it. Chris could see the yellow pallor of its rotting flesh and the green fungus that writhed beneath its skin, slowly tearing the surface open. The cheeks of the creature puffed out. By the time Chris realised what was happening, it was too late to dodge. The Laz blasted a churning mass of spores at him. His eyes widened as the disgusting, noxious cloud spiralled towards his face. Chris held a hand in front of his nose and braced for impact. 

He opened his eyes after several long, tense moments, realising that his head wasn’t engulfed in suffocating spores. Hooclaw hovered between him and the monster, the yellow-green cloud completely covering the smaller beast. The spectre glared over its shoulder, red eyes silently chastising him for not paying attention. He sighed in relief and took several steps back, glad that his partner was looking out for him. The Laz attempted to get closer, but found its path blocked by the thin blade of the vicious spirit. 

Chris stood his ground and took a deep, calming breath. His first real battle. It was time to take charge.

“Hooclaw! Scythe slice its leg!”

The Laz puffed up for another shot. While Hooclaw didn’t seem to have lungs in the first place, the spores still seemed to be afflicting the little creature. The same black miasma that held its ghostly body together was drifting off into the air, damaged by the magical attack. It didn’t seem that affected by the initial blast, but the resulting infection was eating away at its body. Something to note for the journal, he supposed. Hooclaw struck first, delivering a barbaric blow to the leg of the zombified herbivore. If it was attacking a living creature, the blow would have surely severed a tendon and incapacitated the beast. But the fungal fiend was tougher than that. It buckled forward as the decomposing flesh gave way, retaliating with a second blast of spores.

Hooclaw retreated, making sure to stay between Chris and the Laz. The enemy seemed to be wholly focused on the ghost now, much to Chris’ relief. Its unstable form teetered from side the side as the severed hoof plopped onto the earth. Hooclaw closed in for another blow without waiting for a further command. It went straight for another limb.

The sadistic spirit was far faster than the shambling creature. Its quick, malicious attacks seemed to be particularly effective against the beast, quickly disabling it part by part. The scythe swept past the remaining forelimb and hooked around it, deftly wrenching forward and shearing through rotten flesh. With both front limbs destroyed, the Laz toppled forward and the spore shot went wide. Chris hoped the spores didn’t go on to infect any other Apos.

Taking charge once more, he raised his voice to get Hooclaw’s attention. 

“The head! Cut its head off!” Chris yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. The little sadist was happy to oblige. It swung the blade towards the neck of the creature, tearing a heinous gouge across the yellow flesh. Spores sprayed out of the wound, carried by the wind and making their way further into the province. Hooclaw failed to go all the way through the vertebrate, however. The dying beast turned its head and fired off another shot, far weaker than the last. Green mist sprayed from the gaping throat wound, plenty of the attack’s pressure lost to the puncture. Hooclaw took the hit with a bothered expression, its smile fading once again. 

Chris took a step back to watch as his monster executed its foe. It was inevitable at this point. He supposed he should have stepped in to give more orders, but Hooclaw looked like it was particularly in need of some cathartic slashing. At the very least, Chris was holding up his end of the bargain. He was certainly providing the contracted monster opportunities to get stronger. Power above all else, that was all most monsters craved. Unfortunately for the Laz — or for the fungus that controlled it, it would never be accomplishing that. It was time for it to become fodder, nothing more than a stepping stone for Hooclaw to grow and advance.

The black scythe descended over and over, more like a violent axe than the elegant blade he had come to expect. Green ichor coated the edge of it, as the Hooclaw hacked further and further into Laz’s neck. The spirit finally found the right spot, tearing through the ligaments and emerging on the other side. The head of the reanimated grazer toppled onto the ground with a heavy thud, black tongue lolling out pathetically. The rest of its fallen corpse continued to twitch, with stumpy limbs fighting desperately to turn upright. Once Hooclaw started hacking and slashing at the already mutilated torso, Chris figured it was time to wrangle it back in line.

“Come on, Hooclaw! We’re going.” He set his hands on his hips, eyeing the defiant creature. Its red eyes stared at him from across the field, the maniacal grin spreading through its features once more.

“N-now!” He ordered, doing his best to channel the same gravitas his father kept monsters in line with.

With a fiendish giggle, the spectre shook its blade clean and hovered over to Chris. While it was battered, a few moments away from the heat of battle seemed like all it took for the crippling infection to stop hurting it. 

“Hey, uh… Thanks for having my back there,” Chris said, eyeing his spectral companion. Did Hooclaw even eat? Perhaps he should get some kind of reward for his partner.

Hooclaw leaned towards him, round head extended towards Chris’ hand. He took the motion as an offer to pet the creature, eagerly accepting. Perhaps their bond was growing stronger already.

As he neared the head, however, Hooclaw span around and swept its scythe towards his thumb. Chris yelped in fright and jerked his hand away, glaring at the giggling creature in indignation. Was this the only prank it knew how to pull?

Perhaps the bond would take a bit longer to form. He didn’t let his partner’s mischief get him down. No, they had just won their first battle. It was cause to celebrate. He left the scattered corpse of the Laz behind, searching for a shady tree to eat his packed lunch under. Hooclaw’s laughter tapered off as it floated along, and the two found themselves walking in a comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First battle. Threw myself right into it with the writing. No offence to Laz lovers out there! I still love the little guys. I’m not sure how many battles to do before the inevitable bridge scene, but I’m excited to keep writing! Imagining how the battles would play out is something I’m rather interested in. I expect to be able to write more once I reach a point where the monsters have plenty of moves.


	4. A Brief Respite

The two figures sat beneath a wide-brimmed tree, each tucking into their meals. Chris unwrapped the handkerchief and beheld the homemade lunch. His mother had prepared a small loaf of homemade bread, slightly soggy from the ingredients within. He held the sandwich away from Hooclaw, expecting the cheeky creature to try and mess with it in some way. 

Fortunately, Hooclaw was currently occupied with a handful of low-hanging fruit. It reached up to chew them right off the branches, earning a bemused look from its tamer. Chris quickly scarfed down the rest of his meal. Between the soft dough were layers of scrambled eggs and fresh herbs. A thin slice of Primigon cheese was pre-melted, gluing the ingredients together. He savored the last of mom’s cooking, sharing the short moment of respite with his spectral partner.

After all was said and done, and the last of the crumbs were brushed off, he leaned against the tree and placed the cloth back into his pack. 

“Alright, buddy. I wanna do a bit of writing. Can you hang around here and keep watch?”

The last thing he wanted was for a marauding Seycret to pop out and shiv him while he was taking down notes. Hooclaw obliged without a fuss, its stomach… On second thought, he didn’t think it had a stomach. With its metaphorical belly filled with fruits, the creature seemed to be in a good mood. 

“Hey, you know what? We should give you a name,” he muttered. Hooclaw turned to meet his gaze, the mischievous look shifting to a curious, expectant expression. It almost looked cute. Chris waved his partner over, waiting till the spectre was floating directly in front of him. 

“You do kinda look like a note. Like sheet music?” He added, as the spirit tilted its head quizzically. Yes, the scythe-wielding creature did resemble a… Which shape was it? Chris was never very good at reading notes. The most he did was play around with the piano as a kid, and learn to play a few nursery rhymes. 

“I got it!”

Chris went to work on the corner of his empty journal, scribbling a quick drawing of the note.

“A quaver. That’s what it was called. How’s that for a name?”

Hooclaw bent its scythe and curled inwards, mimicking the quick doodle. It didn’t seem put off, so Chris assumed the monster was alright with the nickname.

“Quaver. That’s your name then. We’re gonna be a great team!” He pumped his fist into the air, a grin spreading over his freckled face. Quaver spun in a circle, its own smile plastered across the dark body. It hovered off to stand guard over their little encampment, while the boy worked on his journal.

-

_ Monsters I’ve met... _

-

While plenty of monsters already had dossiers and known information, Chris felt like he had to keep his own record of them. After all, who knew when he’d come across aberrant behaviour, or discover something entirely new about a monster of his? No, it was better to maintain his own theories and keep track of interesting things he saw. Like Quaver’s Hooclaw biology, for one! While the entity wasn’t exactly organic, there was still plenty to figure out about its physiology: The effects of the poison, how it digested food, how it made use of magic. 

-

_ Teedon is a small, bipedal Monster, usually around 2 Feet tall and 60 pounds. They’re not hard to pick up, but are dangerous if they latch on to a person. Teedon have huge jaws that can set in place and stay latched on to targets. Their nostrils let them breathe while biting on too. Teedon are dangerous in big packs, and getting bitten by just one is usually enough to cut off escape. Avoid being cornered at all costs. Can very easily kill a human. _

_ They’re the Relentless type, and have high energy levels. They recover fast and take a while to burn their energy. Weak to physical attacks, very accurate shots into their weak points can kill them. _

_ Quick reference _

_ Strengths: Bite. Getting bitten by one is a death sentence for humans. Can hold on indefinitely. _

_ Weaknesses: Big crack on chest. Strong strike there or stabbing into it does huge damage to them. Blocking nostrils can make them let go of victim. _

-

Quite a bit of the journal was just theorising, to be scribbled out at a later date if proven wrong. But hey, it made sense to Chris. Spending time observing Teedon had given him plenty of insights. Quaver had managed to spot the glaring weakness too, and had proven how vulnerable the little creatures were to it. A proper achilles heel, fortunately. The creatures would be terrifying without them. He could imagine things going evenly in a match between a Teedon pack and a single Primigon. A hefty blow or deadly charge from the larger herbivores could spell doom for one of the dinosaurs. But if one managed to latch on, the pain and brief pause given could allow others to pile on, quickly burdening and outnumbering their prey. 

Now for Hooclaw. The species was a bit more enigmatic than most, both in personality and physiology. As a ghostly being, they were inherently magical, though quite a bit more tangible than other of its kind. He had been lucky enough to win Quaver in a contest, as a freshly bred, pureblooded Hooclaw. Four other children had gotten their own monsters from the island-spanning promotion. For a moment, Chris wondered what the last two days would have been like if he had obtained any of the other prizes. 

No sense dwelling on it, he figured. He liked Hooclaw. Despite the few warnings he had received, the spectre seemed like a good partner. It had saved him from the Laz, after all, and he wasn’t about to quit taming so soon. He got to work on writing, deftly flipping to the next page.

-

_ Hooclaw are ghosts given shape. They’re mischievous and like playing pranks on people, mostly interested in entertaining themselves. They get damaged differently from other monsters. Instead of bleeding, their bodies are made of some mysterious matter that bleeds out if they’re damaged. While not having lungs, they’re still vulnerable to poison gas due to some unknown effect in it; maybe magical. Hooclaw can eat fruits, but I don’t know where it goes for now. It didn’t seem like mine needed to eat, but he liked it anyway. _

_ Their scythes can stretch and warp to gain a little bit more reach, and they’re pretty fast while in the air. My Hooclaw partner is named Quaver, after his resemblance to a music note. He’s 2 feet and 1 inch exactly. Because he floats, I can’t put him on a scale. He’s classified under the vicious type, which makes sense from what I’ve seen. He’s been a bit cruel in battle, and takes things too far sometimes. I still need to discipline and train him better. _

_ I’m really, really excited in seeing how he grows in the future. If I choose to breed him with something, I wonder what will come from the egg. _

_ Quick reference _

_ Strength: Fast, accurate, sharp scythe has a lot of uses. Can cut through skin easily and attack weak points. _

_ Weakness: Too mischievous. Hard to control. A wild one might spend too much time messing around and trying to goad someone, and end up getting blasted by a really strong blow. _

-

There. His notes were done for the day. Writing up on the Laz could wait till he’d seen a few more battles involving them. Taking the creature down hadn’t been too tough, apart from his close call. Quaver might enjoy being able to go wild on a corpse. Chris himself didn’t feel too bad either, considering that the creatures weren’t technically alive anymore. It wasn’t nearly as guilt-inducing as killing a breathing animal. 

He knew that mercy wasn’t something a tamer could just hand out in excess. Letting a monster one clashed with live through a defeat could have some long-lasting consequences. It could hold a grudge, it could learn from the encounter and get a great deal stronger than its peers in the wild. He had heard a tale once of a scarred, white-furred Hyna in the Desperado province. The creature had survived clash after clash with tamers, growing and learning from skirmishes. It learnt to flee while preserving all that it had gained from the battle. Eventually, the beast gained the strength and courage to carry out guerrilla strikes against tamer camps, going for the throats of tamers in the dead of night and mauling scattered monsters and humans alike in the ensuing chaos. It took a hired hand sent by a King to put the three-headed beast down for good. 

No, it was better to finish off a monster used for training. If one survived battles on its own and grew stronger in the wild, it would be a natural process. But a tamer interfering with the natural order had the responsibility to set things right afterwards. It would be his duty to stop such a thing from happening. 

Quaver didn’t seem like it’d have a problem with that, at the very least. He doubted the Hooclaw would hesitate, even without taking the deeper circumstances into account.

Chris snapped the journal shut and whistled for Quaver to come over. It was time to move on. The little miscreant, however, had its eyes set on a mound of earth. Topsoil was churned up in great clods, as the creature beneath the ground dug towards the two. He quickly reached for the tree trunk and began to climb, eager to get out of range. Christ knew what it was instantly. A gash from this creature’s lethal tail would spell his immediate doom. His Hooclaw would have to take care of it before he could come back down.

“Quaver! Get ready to fight!” He hung on to the tree for dear life.  
  
A joyous giggle sounded from the black being as it watched its tamer squirm. The first sign of the burrowing Seycret popped out of the earth. It shook the dirt off and glared at its floating foe, white claws shining in the afternoon sun. 

Quaver darted downwards to meet his foe, jerking the blade towards its scarlet carapace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to come up with the name for Hooclaw on my own. I definitely wanted a musical name, since I thought it looked like a note. Was thinking Alto or Clef. But I figured it would be best to name it after the note that it most resembled. Hope you guys enjoy the journal entries, I do like writing them and coming up with little pieces of conceptual biology. Seycret fight coming next chapter, and soon after, a special encounter based off info from Dev himself! ;) Thanks for reading!


	5. Vile Tail, Vicious Scythe

A loud clang rumbled through the thicket, as Quaver’s scythe connected with the protective shell of the Seycret. It failed to penetrate the armour, sliding off and giving the beast the opportunity to swipe at it. Black mist spurted from the wound, and the Hooclaw hovered away with a pained grimace on its face.

Chris rifled through his bag for the contracts, eager to form a pact with the burrowing creature. While they had been huge pests on the farm, he had always been interested in them. They were such intriguing beasts, with deadly venom that could kill a man in moments. This one was substantially bigger than the ones that Teedon had to take down back home. The two-legged creature was three and a half feet from head to tail, with a heavy brow and pointed ears. It dove back into the burrow as Quaver went for a second slice, deftly avoiding the attack.

“Hey! Try and get it to the surface,” he said. The spirit huffed softly and went in low, keeping itself just above the soil and in pouncing distance. It took the bait, bursting out of the earth and attempting to tackle the Hooclaw. Chris held the contract out to it, calling out wordlessly to get its attention.

The snout of the beast turned in his direction. His pact began to glow, ancient runes and lost words coming to life across the surface. The Seycret seemed mesmerised for a second. It took in the terms of the proposed contract, reading through and recognising the writing. Quaver floated just behind it, prepared to strike the speedy beast if it rejected it. Chris’ hopes were dashed in an instant, however, as the creature turned its head away and distinctly scoffed. It was unimpressed. The illuminated runes burned bright across the parchment, soon turning into orange embers that scorched the material around them. The wasted contract crumbled to ash in Chris’ hands, burning itself into nothingness and sprinkling onto the ground.

Usually, if a beast wasn’t willing to partner up with a tamer, they’d need to show their strength first. Perhaps it would reconsider after that. In this case, it would be foolish to keep trying, especially when he was caught in such a compromising position. The beast would have to be taken down. Quaver took the chance to swing its blade, landing a hit beneath the dense shell and scratching across its shoulder. The Seycret took the blow, coldly swiping at the Hooclaw with its venom-tipped tail. The vile tail whipped right across the prankster’s torso, knocking it back and sending up a steady stream of dark mist. Chris could tell that an infection was setting in again, slowly sapping his monster of life. They’d have to retreat from the battle before Hooclaw could recover. Unfortunately, running wasn’t an option. If he set foot off the tree, the creature would easily catch up and strike him with the tail. A lone human was easy prey out here, and a single Hooclaw wasn’t imposing enough to ward off the more aggressive beasts with its sheer presence.

As Quaver regained its bearings, the scarlet monster burrowed underground yet again. It was always difficult to deal with them when they did that. Teedon couldn’t dig without arms, and dad usually had to resort to setting traps before they could be exterminated. Countless pumpkins had fallen before the hungry, hungry horde of subterranean scavengers. Like most monsters, Seycrets were opportunistic, never passing up on the chance for a free meal.

The largest problem was getting it in a position where Quaver could attack it. The quick strikes of the scythe were ineffective against the armoured back of the monster. What if he could get it onto its belly somehow? Or disable the most lethal limb?

“Quaver, wait for it to swipe first before you Scythe Slice it. Go for the tail!”

The Hooclaw didn’t look too keen on accepting the order to let itself get attacked. The vicious ghost wasn’t laughing now that it didn’t have the advantage. It looked far grumpier than usual at the challenging fight, the corners of its mouth turned downwards. Quaver’s usual laughter had been absent for the past minute or so, as it waited for the Seycret to resurface. The ghost bobbed up and down, keeping itself just out of range and ensuring the Seycret would have to extend itself to the very limit of its reach. Chris watched the trail of upturned dirt spiral across the field, breathing heavily. The Hooclaw was leaking rather badly as well, and didn’t seem like it could take much more.

Finally, the creature burst out of the soil in an explosion of loose dirt and torn roots. Its claws drew across the Hooclaw at the apex of its leap. Before it could collapse back onto the ground and return to its burrow, Quaver swung its bleeding body at the long tail of the creature. It severed it neatly, cutting away the envenomed end. The toxic, black fluid dripped onto the earth, accompanied by a spray of blood. A thick trunk waved about in agony as the creature writhed, desperately trying to return underground.

However, steady hands gripped the edge of its shell on either side. Chris had swiftly descended the tree while the two were clashing, easily sneaking up on the distracted digger. It only weighed as much as a bag of grain, so it was no huge feat for him to lift the scrabbling creature. The wet, bloody tail whipped across his stomach, not possessing enough force to wound him. It certainly stung, though. Short claws tried and failed to rend his pale arms open, as he held it up for his partner.

“Now!”

Quaver wasted no time, now that its tamer was in the fray. It stabbed the blade into the base of the creature’s belly, eliciting a pained screech from the thrashing beast. The scythe tore straight upwards, stopping right beneath the neck of the Seycret. A spray of foul fluids and pale, fat entrails tumbled out of the gaping wound as the poor creature was promptly disembowelled. Chris dropped the dying monster onto the ground, quickly backing away to look at the mess on his shirt. He clasped a hand over his nose as the smell reached him, nearly gagging from the sight. The beast was shuddering and thrashing weakly, no doubt in the worst pain of its life. The tremors slowly grew weaker and weaker, its fatal wound too severe to heal from. Monsters were resilient, but not _that_ tough.

Not wasting any time, he marched over to the tree and reclaimed his pack. The Hooclaw’s harsh giggle rang through the copse of trees once again, as it savoured its victory wickedly. Off they went, leaving the twitching body behind for the scavengers.

-

Chris settled down for another short break, leaning against a bent fence. A small herd of Primigon grazed in the distance, eyeing the young tamer suspiciously. That had been a tough battle. Entering the fray was always a risk to tamers, but it was a necessity sometimes. Almost any monster could easily kill a human. If the Seycret had slashed him with its remaining claws, it would’ve been just as bad as the venom, out here in the wilderness. Still, it was somewhat disturbing to have the Seycret defeated in such a manner.

He would have liked to contract it, a shame it rejected the offer. Maybe getting a Primigon would repel future attackers. Chris knew for sure that he didn’t want a Rodask or Laz, so that left two options in the province.

At the very least, Quaver was growing stronger. The Hooclaw seemed exuberant in the wake of their victory, cackling loudly every few minutes and slashing at thin air. It headed over to bother the large beasts as Chris rested, giggling right up in their bone-plated faces and floating circles around them.

Something sweet and floral drifted in his direction, carried by the present breeze. It smelled like fresh honey and aromatic blossoms. He glanced towards the source, unable to pin down where it was coming from. Chris shrugged and closed his eyes for a moment.

It was nearing sunset. Travelling at night was almost always a bad idea. A Seycret could easily lash him in the dark. There was still a short distance to the next village, and he would most likely reach by the next afternoon. He could afford to break camp for now, just off the side of the main road.

Chris took a moment to reflect on the day’s events, planning out the next part of his trip. His partner had taken down two monsters, and was steadily gaining the experience and strength he had promised it. He had gotten into bad situations twice now. Perhaps he ought to obtain some kind of weapon. He had heard about thugs in distant villages outright shooting monsters, if they had none of their own. A bullet between the eyes of lesser creatures was a sure enough way to take them down. It was always best to have a partner on hand, however. While a revolver might be able to take out a Rodask or a rabid Canite, some monsters would only be made angrier by a puny bullet. No, it was better to have a monster of your own after all.

He stood up and raised his arms into the air, letting loose a loud yawn as he stretched. Quaver floated back over and took its place behind him, as the boy went off to find a suitable campsite. It didn’t take long to reach a prime location. Old fire pits littered the area, marking it out as a regular spot for tamers to break camp. He wondered if his father had ever set up camp here. He certainly didn’t remember the spot from their trips into the woods, but he knew that dad had been a tamer long before him.

The ground was too hard for Seycret to sneak up on them, there was a good distance between the campsite and the treeline to spot monsters, and there was no sign of violence marring the remnants of the old camps. Chris set his pack down and got to work on a fire, throwing himself into the task as the amber beams of the setting sun tore across the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd take some liberties and portray what I thought would happen when contracts failed. Alas, no Seycret for Chris. I'm really looking forward to the next chapter! The next real chapter will be split in two, because I'll be including content that's canon, but currently not shown in any of the streams or demos yet. As such, chapter 6 will be rather short, to pave the way for 7, which will be completely skippable if one wants to avoid spoilers. One can leap straight from 6 to 8 as though a timeskip took place.


	6. Deep In The Woods

In the dead of night, the cackling Hooclaw hovered away from the camp. The wicked smile was plastered across its face once more, as it turned its back on its slumbering trainer. The boy would be fine. Leaving him for just a short while couldn’t be that bad. The spirit danced through the leaves, quietly hoping that he would contract another monster soon. Another travel companion to bother, to observe, and most importantly, someone to watch over the kid at night, so that it could go off on its own without a hitch. It would be a breach of the contract if it just abandoned the tamer like that.

For now, though, short forays away from the boy were fine. Quaver had checked the area beforehand to make sure it was clear. 

The woods weren’t as notorious as the Hooclaw would have liked. Where was the fun? The tragedy? The dark history and unsettling aura? No, the forests of the Windy Province were plain and safe. Apart from the occasional casualty from misjudging a Primigon, or a sting from a Seycret, there was nothing to fear in the area. And considering that they were only passing through, there would be no time to change that. The creature sliced through a branch with a dry smirk, causing the nest within to tumble out of the tree. The toothed bird within squawked in protest, fluttering out of the air and taking off. The cracked eggs laid abandoned by the base of the trunk, seeping into the earth and remaining there for a lucky Rodask to claim in the morning.

Eventually, the Hooclaw came across another camp. The fire was still going strong, serving as a foolish beacon for wild monsters and intrepid pranksters alike. He could spot a blonde-haired youth sitting on a log, eyelids drooping as he tried desperately to stay awake. The boy’s companion, a brown-furred Canite, lay curled up by his feet. A silent smile spread across Quaver’s face, as he thought on how best to mess with the two. The Canite would be a problem if it woke up. No attacking them, that was a surefire way to get destroyed. But there would be other ways to spark a reaction.

The malicious spectre started by drawing its blade across a branch, filling the air with a quiet sawing. It ran the edge across the wood repeatedly, screeching to a halt at intervals. The boy’s attention was caught now, and he perked up in alarm. The Canite stopped snoring. Though its eyes were closed, the Hooclaw could see its ears swiftly pivoting around. It floated off before they could pinpoint the source of the creepy noise, making little laps around their campsite. 

What next? It was in need of a show. Quaver thought on its next step, red eyes glimmering wickedly in the gloom beyond the firelight. It bobbed off to search for something it could use, all thoughts of its tamer and duties tossed aside for the moment.

-

Chris roused himself at dawn, looking around the campsite for Quaver. The Hooclaw was already awake, carving patterns into a group of trees. It seemed to be making markings, like those used to guide lost hikers through the woods. However, all the markings just led to each other, resulting in a mess of useless directions that would get one lost in the forest. His stomach rumbled, his paltry foraged dinner not even satiating him till breakfast. He got up to search for more fruits, slinging his pack over his shoulder and motioning for his partner to move along. 

The two travelled along the beaten path, with Chris directing his Hooclaw to take the lead. He used the time to examine the creature, taking note of the way the spectral reaper moved and bobbed. He passed a hastily abandoned camp, the ground around it churned up and the logs crushed by something. Quaver seemed to find the scene particularly funny, for some reason.

Eventually, they reached a fork in the path. The guiding fences didn’t cover the route to the right, and it seemed like it led further into the wilderness. He knew for sure that the left path was the right way to go if he wanted to reach Mill town, but exploring the other way was enticing too. 

“What do you think, Quaver?” He asked, prompting the monster to turn back. It swayed like a pendulum, alternating between the forks and jabbing the tip of its blade into the air. Eventually, it settled on the one leading into the great unknown. Chris adjusted his pack and began to walk, munching on a pouch of berries he had picked during their stroll. He threw one into the air for Quaver to catch. Quaver held its head close after eating the berry, trying to lure the boy into petting it again. After falling for the same trick thrice, Chris had finally caught on. He ignored the offered head until his monster huffed in frustration, floating several yards away from him.

-

An hour later, they found themselves in the middle of the dark forest, trees looking over the duo. They were far off the beaten path now. Dew-soaked leaves rustled gently, sending fat droplets raining down onto Chris’ head. He raised a hand to cover himself up. Even the Hooclaw seemed a little unsettled, this deep in foreign territory. Chris didn’t turn back, however, wanting to find something interesting first. Retreating after an hour of nothing would be a huge waste. So far, he hadn’t seen anything more interesting than a Rodask gnawing on a rotting log. 

An abrupt motion from Quaver caught his attention. Chris took note of where it was pointing, spotting a bunch of torn leaves on a nearby branch. They looked like they had been bitten apart, with rounded marks lining the edges. Other branches were stripped of vegetation, neatly plucked off in huge bundles. Chris’ eyes lit up as he looked over the destroyed foliage. Primigon couldn’t have done this. The tops of their shoulders would only scrape the torn branches, and their necks were too short to reach that high. No, this was a different monster. Certainly not something that could be found around the farm. The deep footprints bore two toes, and the leaves beneath had been pressed into a flat mass. Notably, claw marks were carved into many of the trees around. Many looked old, as though the wood had healed over several times. Whatever lived here had been in the area for a long time.

Chris sent Quaver ahead to investigate, silently standing among the greenery by himself. After a few nerve-wracking minutes, the scythe-wielding spectre returned and motioned for him to come along. He eagerly followed, eventually stumbling across the large hole in the hillside. A burrow; a damp, deep den. The tamer fell silent as he observed the area, taking stock of everything present. Footprints, old bones, an area completely stripped of low leaves, yep, there was definitely something living inside.

Drunk on confidence from their last two victories, Chris adjusted the sling bag and stepped towards the den. This was it. A new monster that he was going to encounter. What kind of creature was it? Perhaps something common elsewhere, but never before seen in the Windy Province. Perhaps a new creature entirely, sleeping under their noses the whole time. Excitement and overconfidence prompted him to throw caution to the wind, sending Quaver towards the burrow. The monster was happy to oblige, picking up on its tamer’s good mood.

The monster’s home was in the side of a huge dirt mound. Roots peeked through the earthy ceiling, and he could smell damp mildew from within. He could hear shifting and grunting from the deep burrow, as Quaver did its job and worked on luring the monster out. The scythe-toting spirit soon emerged from the depths, a cocky smile on its little face. The inside of the tunnel rumbled and shook, chunks of wet dirt crumbling off the ceiling as the baited monster barrelled down the tunnel and emerged into the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. This and the next ought to be considered one huge chapter, but I opted to split them so one could avoid the [SPOILERS] that come in the next part. Do bear in mind that there's information about the game itself not shown publicly yet, that was used to write the next bit. I also decided to add a little scene of Quaver messing around at night, to fill up some space. Some people might be able to recognise the tamer shown, as a small NPC we've seen in a stream ;). Also ties in to a previous plot point that I mentioned in an earlier chapter.
> 
> Next part is rather long, at roughly twice the length of a usual chapter. I put a lot into it, but I also did write it all in one sitting. Feel free to critique or point out anything that may be off! And I hope you guys enjoy the next part. Once again, chapter 7 contains [SPOILERS] that one might want to avoid.


	7. [SPOILER] The Mystery Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final warning that this chapter contains spoilers. It includes a secret canon monster. If you're interested in finding out about it, I'm proud to say this is the first place where you can do so (Apart from Beta testing). But if you want to experience it for yourself or wait till you see it in official Monster Crown coverage, do skip this chapter. I originally planned on uploading 6, 7 and 8 together so that one could skip 7 entirely, but writing this one has been quite taxing. Anyway, disclaimer over. Read on!

True enough, the beast was like nothing he had ever seen. As soon as its green snout emerged from the den, Chris knew he had made a mistake in aggravating the creature. It was by far the most imposing thing he had seen in the wilderness. Thick limbs propped up the top-heavy reptile. Its knuckles dragged against the dirt and left deep furrows. The beast bore crude, hooked claws that looked capable of tearing through flesh like wet parchment. Despite its monstrous, imposing form, he found it familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place.

Quaver turned around to face it, keeping itself between Chris and the towering behemoth. It was about the height of a grown man, and far wider. The monster had a broad, muscular chest, coated in verdant scales that were speckled with drops of water. A bulbous tail whipped about behind it, pale white dots running along its length. Chris noted the two triangular teeth extending from its upper jaw, as well as the dark crest sat between its eyes. It pulled its lips back in a low snarl, revealing a mixture of sharp canines and blunt, flat molars. This thing could rival a Primigon in brute strength, and looked more than capable of halting the beasts mid-charge.

Little puffs of steam shot out of its nostrils as it coldly regarded the two intruders. Chris clenched his fist around the strap of his pack, thinking on his next course of action. The huge creature didn’t look like something they could take on. What sort of monster was it? It looked huge and brutish, with rippling muscles and a jutting chest. Could it be a bulky, defensive Will type? He didn’t think Quaver’s scythe could tear through the tough-looking scales easily. Receiving a single hit from it might spell the end for either of them too— it looked capable of ripping a person in half without breaking a sweat. The cheeky Hooclaw danced around it, managing to avoid a clumsy swipe from the angered beast. He didn’t have much time left to decide, it looked ready to charge right at him. The Hooclaw was like a fly to the hulking monster, barely worth a glance. It seemed to be focused directly on the source of the annoyance: Chris himself. He felt a pit of fear harden in his stomach, as it lumbered across the small clearing and towards him.

“Q-quaver! Slice it!” He yelled out, quickly scampering away from the beast. It charged right at him, easily clearing the distance. The spirit came to his rescue, drawing a thin line across the back of its exposed neck. It dug its claws into the earth and spun around to swat at the spirit, knocking it right into a tree. Black mist burst from his partner, cascading from the spot where the claws pierced it. Chris took the chance to hide behind a tree, using the thick trunks as cover and making his way towards his wounded partner.

Not a sound came from the downed Hooclaw, as it sat in a heap by the base of the tree. The monster snorted and sauntered back towards the entrance, sniffing the air and pacing about. Rather than finish off Quaver, it just wandered about and stood guard by the den. Chris’ heart sped up as he watched his heavily wounded partner, ‘blood’ spraying out from the burst seam. He inched into the clearing to try and retrieve his friend.

The creature caught sight of the human immediately, long snout turning to glare at him. It began lumbering towards him again, one claw raised to pound the boy into mush. Chris yelped in fright and dove behind the tree again. When he heard the heavy footsteps cease, he dared to peek out once more. The green dinosaur was back to pacing, making sure nothing else intruded into its home. Meanwhile, Quaver was suffering on the ground, struggling to float back up. The smile was wiped right off its face, as both monster and tamer realised they were in over their heads. As much as Chris wanted to dash in and rescue his companion, aggravating the beast further would only get them both killed.

The sun blazed overhead as minutes passed. Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, doing his best to stay calm amidst the crisis. Oh, how easy it was to think about everything he did wrong up to this point. He should have gotten a second monster as backup. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy and dashed in to face an unknown creature. It was only his second day out here, and he had already gotten his partner severely wounded. If Quaver died there on the ground, not only would he lose a friend, he’d be out in the woods with zero means of self-defence.

At the very least, the unknown monster wasn’t finishing the Hooclaw off. It stepped on a set of old bones, which Chris identified as belonging to a Rodask, and reached up into the claw-scarred trees to graze. The hooked claws snagged on a branch and tugged across it, scraping vegetation off and into its awaiting maw. The omnivorous beast chewed the leaves idly. Chris didn’t dare sneak in just yet, it was still turning its head and keeping watch. When would it go back into the den?!

The juicy-looking tail of the beast swept across the ground. He could see black stripes stretching across its back. Chris squinted and craned his neck, trying to figure out anything at all that could help. A moment of careful examination revealed that the tail of the monster wasn’t covered in the thick scales that coated the rest of its bulky body. The chunky tail had a smooth look to it, its texture uniform and solid. The white dots seemed to be glowing for a moment, but the boy dismissed it as a trick of the light. If Quaver was still able to fight, it could perhaps aim there and cause the beast some pain. He turned his attention back to his partner.

Quaver didn’t seem to have stabilised, meeting his gaze with a set of red eyes. The typical energy it held was completely dispelled, the creature looking distinctly terrified. It was stuck there, slowly leaking out, unable to slink away and unable to be rescued. Chris motioned for the monster to stay on the ground, circling the clearing and observing the creature from every angle. How could he draw it away? He could try and lure another monster here. But that would involve walking off alone in the middle of the woods. It would be foolish. They were on a time limit, so waiting for the beast to return home by itself was out of the question.

Once again, he cursed himself for his poor decision. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have wandered off that far. Chris stomped on a twig as he slinked through the bushes, drawing the gaze of the beast. He seized up completely as it turned towards him. As it sniffed the air and scratched at its neck, the young tamer caught sight of an odd trait. His eyes widened as he examined the beast, gears spinning in his head.

A large, T-shaped crack ran down the chest of the monster, parting the scales and extending deeper in. He could see tiny hairline fractures around it.

What was that? An old wound? Battle scars from a previous encounter? Either way, it looked like a weak spot: Something they could possibly exploit. Yet again, a sense of familiarity washed over him, but Chris pushed it aside to focus on coming up with a plan.

-

Quaver looked to be in bad shape, visibly deflated and twitching on the ground. Its smug expression was nowhere to be seen, as it glanced in Chris' direction desperately. He motioned for the creature to stay still. The huge beast was **_still_** just standing there. It seemed like it had all the patience in the world to stay there and watch the entrance of its lair. It was noon now, the hot sun shining directly overhead. The creature basked in the sun's rays, its crest soaking up the sweltering heat with ease. Its eyes were closed, though the ear-holes of the reptile still picked up on the surrounding noise.

Chris had risked walking off for a bit to look for materials. He had found just the right items, managing to avoid conflict with a passing Rodask. When he returned, the Hooclaw had been shivering on the ground, terrified and furious at the idea that it might have been abandoned. Though the spectre turned away to try and hide it, he had spotted the clear relief on its face when it saw him once again.

The tamer pointed to his own chest, and then to that of the awaiting monster. Quaver looked between the two figures for several moments before it understood.

It was all or nothing now. This would either end with them getting out relatively unscathed, or… He didn’t want to think of the alternative. He levelled a rock, his other hand holding a long stick. He had done all he could to sharpen the end of the thick branch, using a flat stone to whittle it down. The makeshift spear felt heavy in his clammy hands, as a nervous sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Chris took a few sharp, rapid breaths, eyeing the creature and his ailing partner. He made his way across the edge of the clearing, careful not to step on any more twigs.

Once he was in the right spot, he motioned for the Hooclaw to get ready. It stuck the tip of its scythe into the ground and pushed itself upright, the tail wriggling wildly against the dirt. Chris flung the rock across the clearing. It smashed into a trunk, splintering chunks of loose bark. The monster turned towards it immediately, slowly treading over to the source. Chris held his breath as it moved past his Hooclaw.

Quaver took the chance, as signalled, to burst outwards with all of its remaining strength. It stabbed towards the crack on the chest of the towering behemoth.

In its wounded, debilitated state, the Hooclaw missed.

Spectral matter scraped across the edge of the crack, making a little scratch on the scales. The beast whirled around furiously as the other monster shot past, ready to slam it down into the dirt or finish it off with its claws. Quaver tumbled onto the floor before it could even be struck down, energy spent and completely vulnerable.

However, Chris was already charging towards the monster. With a pained, desperate shout, he thrust forward with the makeshift spear and sunk it into the monster’s exposed chest, landing a direct hit right as it turned around.

The resulting roar shook the whole clearing, nearly blowing out the tamer’s eardrums. The leaves above rustled, some even toppling out of the trees and sprinkling down like confetti. Huge droves of little birds took off, fluttering away from their nests and darkening the afternoon sky. If it had been annoyed before, Chris could tell it was truly furious now, thrashing in agony and letting out guttural groans. He didn’t waste any time after hearing the saurian scream in fury.

The boy turned tail and sprinted, reaching down to rescue Quaver off the ground. He scooped his monster into his arms. It weighed almost nothing, having lost a great deal of the mysterious matter that made up its body. The beast snapped the bloodied spear in half with a single twist, letting the splintered chunks fall out of its crack. After it thrashed about for a few seconds, it was after them, lumbering through the woods and galloping along on all fours. Heavy knuckles propelled its whole body forward.

The forest became a green blur around Chris, as he ran and ran and ran. He ducked beneath a low branch and sped through a little creek, sending ripples through the slow water. The beast was there a moment later, crashing through the branch without flinching. Its hind feet slammed into the water, leaving a deep print in the mud. Chris didn’t dare turn around, for fear of seeing how close it was. He could almost smell the hot breath of the beast on his neck. He gasped in shock as he felt it touch him, the force sending him stumbling forward. Did it get him? Did it cleave his back open? He couldn’t tell, but perhaps it was just shock. The contents of his dangling pack clattered to the ground, unbeknown to him, ripped open by the monster’s claws. A step closer and it would have severed his spine.

It was too close. Right behind him. He felt like he was sprinting for hours, pushing thinner branches away and leaping over ground-level obstructions. And yet, all the monster had to do was charge forward and let its bulk destroy everything in its path. Quaver was silent and still in his arms. None of the obstacles seemed to even slow the rampaging monster. It was completely set on catching up to the puny human and crushing him to bits, drool trickling from its panting jaws.

They ran past little lakes and old camps, the boy doing his best to make it back onto the path.

“HELP! ANYONE! HELP ME!”

He panted hard as he ran, emptying his lungs as he screamed in raw desperation. He was running out of steam, and the monster seemed like it still had plenty. He could hear it several feet behind him, deep rumbles sounding from its massive chest. It sounded hungry. Angry. Vicious.

Finally, the boy spotted a familiar white fence. He dashed between two gaps, his vision blurring and his eyes stinging from sweat. He didn’t hear the startled shouts or frenzied yelling, as he barrelled onto flat ground. The sound of wood splintering behind him, and the furious roars of the beast were all he heard. His foot descended on a large stone, the motion wrenching it sideways painfully. He crashed to the ground, Quaver falling out of his arms and sliding across the pressed dirt. Chris felt the pain of the twisted ankle shoot through him, though it was nothing compared to the all-encompassing terror that soon followed. He whirled around to look at the creature, hyperventilating there on the ground. This was it. He was dead. Quaver was dead. The fourteen-year-old was going to be ripped apart right here on the path.

As he gazed up at the massive beast, he saw it lift a hand in front of its face, growling and snarling in protest. Deafening pops filled the air, and ab acrid smell spread through the chaotic countryside. Little welts were visible between the green scales of the monster. He saw a flash of motion as a smaller monster charged at it, tackling the goliath and giving it pause.

Strong arms seized him underneath the armpits, dragging him across the ground and away from the battle. As he was pulled to safety, Chris caught sight of several men in black coats and formal hats, most of them toting burnished revolvers and aiming at the beast. A flash of light, the pop of a gun, the growling of their assembled monsters. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the beast slinking back into the trees, driven back by gunfire and the snarling monster. Its tail glowed bright as it tore through the forest and away from the path.

Chris' vision faded and his legs turned to jelly beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, and there we go. 
> 
> I knew right from the start that Chris and Quaver would have to be defeated. Two newbies fighting a beast like that? No way they'd pull off a victory. Even putting up a good fight might be hard with a glass cannon like Hooclaw. So I went for a different kind of tension, rather than a fight spanning the whole chapter. Hope you guys liked the chapter! I'm excited to keep writing and continue fleshing out the characters, now that they've both tasted defeat. And I hope I've been able to portray the monster well enough. There are some clues as to what it is. Do feel free to tag me on discord or leave a comment here if you'd like to share your thoughts.


	8. Home Sweet Home

Chris jolted upright and tossed the covers off himself with a panicked gasp. Thoughts raced through his frenzied mind, as he struggled to recall how he got here. Monster. The forest. His partner wounded and dying in his arms. He pushed himself out of bed, the disastrous events hazy and uncertain in his memory. He hardly recognised his surroundings. Chris' chest heaved with effort as he looked around for his Hooclaw. Was Quaver alright? The young tamer pinched the bridge of his nose harshly, doing his best to remember what had happened, and more importantly, where he was. 

There had been a monster. He clearly remembered it emerging from its home and clashing with the two of them. Quaver was hurt badly. Where was Quaver? Chris examined the room, feeling a surge of relief as he took in the familiar sight. This was the farmhouse. He had ended up back home.

He stumbled to the door, still seeing no sign of his Hooclaw. The spirit had been taken out of the fight almost immediately. They were way out of their league, facing a creature like that on its home turf. He shuddered as he remembered the ease with which it shattered branches and plowed through logs. He caught sight of his leather pack resting on his cabinet. The bottom had a huge rip in it that had been neatly sewn shut. He ignored the item and pushed the door open.

Chris heard hushed voices from downstairs. He didn’t have time to process them, for a second later, a dark shape tore through the air and smacked into him, sending him stumbling backwards in surprise. He looked down to see the curled Hooclaw pressed against his chest, the cheeky grin plastered across its face as usual. Chris felt his cheeks tense, as a relieved smile spread across his face instinctively. His monster was alright. It looked good as new. He reached out to try and hug the monster.

Greeting him with the brief tackle seemed to be the extent of its affection. Quaver quickly bobbed out of range, though it didn’t feign a swipe at him this time. The monster stared at Chris as though seeing him for the first time, red eyes focused on the redheaded youth’s face. 

“You’re okay? Everything’s fine now?” he found himself asking his monster, the words serving to reassure himself of their safety. The two of them seemed to have escaped permanent harm. They were back home somehow, and no worse for wear apart from the huge scare they had each received. Quaver’s behaviour seemed a little muted. It wasn’t giggling scathingly or spinning around his head today. The Hooclaw nodded and drifted towards the stairs, beckoning Chris forward with the tip of the scythe.

One hand gripping the guardrail, he walked down the hall and began his descent into the living room. Chris’ legs felt sore and tight, his muscles strained from his frantic flight through the woods. He winced hard as he placed too much weight on his left ankle. Now that there was no adrenaline pumping through him, he could feel the pain shooting through his twisted foot. He made it down the stairs, grunting out loud every few steps. Both his parents were seated at the dining table and in the middle of a whispered conversation. He could see the sombre look on his mother’s face, and the uncertain expression his dad wore.

Upon seeing him, both of them shot to their feet and made their way over, with Issac almost tripping over the napping Dilla on the way. Chris had barely set foot off the last step when he found himself smothered in his mother’s arms. She held him tight and exhaled shakily, clutching his shoulders in a firm grip. 

“Christopher!”

His father joined the embrace, and the three of them stayed there in silence. None of them wanted to be the first to speak, and mom refused to let him go. Tears ran down her face, her chest heaving with strained sobs. Chris found his eyes watering as well, and he let the fear he was holding burst out and run down his face. 

“We were so worried.” dad choked. His voice was unsteady and wavering. “What happened out there?” 

Chris opened his mouth to speak and felt his voice catch in his throat. Mom patted him on the back, steering him towards the couch with her hand still squeezing his sleeve. The three of them settled down on the blue cushion, and Chris began to recount his adventure amidst watery eyes and soft sniffles.

-

“-and that’s all I remember. I passed out on the path, and someone saved me…”

He ended off at the point where he lost consciousness. Quaver hovered above the stove, quietly examining the house and refraining from causing any chaos. Teedon stalked the spectre around and bared its teeth, keeping a close eye on the troublemaker. The little dinosaur was still angry about the low blow, it seemed. 

Mom had been wringing her hands throughout the story, and dad had remarked a couple times, nodding solemnly as Chris spoke. Just two days out there, and their kid had already had a brush with death. Perhaps it was too early after all. At least, that was the sentiment mom now held. While he was deeply concerned, Issac still held the opinion that Chris was ready, and that he just made a bad call. He leaned forward to pat his son on the back.

“They brought you back. A couple of men in suits and this other boy came by yesterday. They were carrying you and Hooclaw. You’ve been asleep the whole day, champ.”

“And your buddy woke up this morning,” mom added. “Oh, we’re so glad you’re okay…” 

Chris felt himself pulled into another hug. He closed his eyes and returned the gesture, his stomach growling in protest. Mom separated from him and wiped at her face. 

“You must be starving, sweetie. I’ve got dinner ready. Go wash up, okay? We’ll… Talk about what to do next in the morning.”

He nodded and got to his feet, easing himself towards the stairs. He made sure he didn’t put too much weight on the sore ankle. Issac reached out to help his son up the wooden steps, with the vicious spirit lingering close behind. While he had his doubts about the monster, it had done a good job of taking care of Chris so far. It didn’t seem to be malicious towards his son, at least. The creature seemed a bit mellowed out as compared to two mornings ago. Issac figured that it was feeling indebted to its tamer for getting them out of there. He hoped it didn’t come to resent the boy for putting them in a bad spot in the first place, Vicious type monsters were the kind to hold grudges for a long time.

“Welcome home, kiddo.” Issac pat Chris on the back and headed back downstairs. Chris hobbled into the bathroom and closed the door after him, ready to wash off all the caked grime and dirt from his misadventure.

That evening, the family gathered round the table and tucked into a luscious spread. Teedon and Dilla chowed down from their food bowls, the latter monster meandering over and moving for the first time all day. It hardly blinked as it munched on the chopped pumpkin and meat scraps. Chris looked out at the distant barn as the last rays of light vanished. The crops were freshly sowed, the birds were cosy in their coops, and work on the barn was progressing smoothly. He sipped his vegetable stew, contemplating staying on the farm for a bit longer. It would be easy to lapse back into routine and stick around for a bit more.

But the errand still needed doing. It was way too early to give up on his journey. This was a big deal for him, even though the close shave had been terrifying. Plus, if he decided to stay home, it would take quite a bit of convincing for mom to let him set out again in the future. While he hadn’t been privy to their conversations, he could usually tell when his parents were arguing about him; usually on the topic of whether he was ready to set out. Like earlier today, for example. He silently went over what he would say in the morning, and by the time dessert came, he had a comprehensive plan in mind. Chris tucked into the wild-berry pie. Yum, strawberry. His favourite berries. It was right there in the name. After a bit, he noticed Quaver’s disappearance. The Hooclaw had been quiet the whole day, so it was easy to forget his friend was around. He had gotten used to its boundless energy over the past few days, it almost felt wrong without its presence.

Chris limped to the door once dinner was over, throwing it open and gazing out across the homestead. Bugs buzzed in the distance, the sounds of the night ringing through the cold air. It was breezy, as always, and Issac shivered as a draft was let in. No sign of Quaver. It must have gotten out through a window while everyone was eating. He closed the door and moved over to the couch, lifting up Dilla and setting it into his lap. The beast salivated all over him unconsciously, chunks of pumpkin smeared across its lips. He picked up a cloth and wiped the mess up.

The boy took over the dishes a while later, keeping an eye on the open window as he scrubbed the plates clean and emptied the scraps into a bag. His partner still wasn’t back. He hoped the monster would come back by morning, he’d leave a window open in his room for the spirit to return through.

As the hands of the clock struck eleven, Chris stepped away from the dying embers. He left Teedon and his dad to read by the fireplace, heading upstairs to shower and turn in for the night. The boy took a while to drift off to sleep, having slept a whole day prior. He eventually lapsed into another dreamless rest.

-

The familiar cries of the birds outside his window roused Chris from his slumber. True enough, Quaver was there by his bedside when he awoke. The Hooclaw’s scythe had a smear of blood on it. The boy looked at the encrusted stain in alarm, quickly opening the door and ushering the monster to the bathroom. It cackled and tried to touch him with it, but he shied away and lifted his pillow to ward off the dried blood. Quaver was back to normal, at least. 

After they had both washed up, he headed downstairs for breakfast. His parents were already up, and there were slices of homemade bread ready to be slathered with butter and cheese. Quaver didn’t bother with the meal, opting to float through a window and enjoy the morning atmosphere. Issac leaned down to whisper to Teedon, commanding the dinosaur outside to keep an eye on the spectre. Playing around outside was fine, but it wouldn’t do to have it mess with the birds in the coop. They needed those eggs.

Once they were halfway through the meal, mom cleared her throat and set down her toast. Chris looked up at her expectantly, the pack already resting in his lap.

“Sweetie… I think you should stay home for a while,” she said. “Your father can go deliver the pearl. And I’ll need you to help out on the farm while he does.” 

Issac looked like he was about to speak, but decided to refrain from chiming in just yet. He scraped a generous portion of cheese onto his bread and took a bite.

“But I want to see the world! I’ve… I’ll be more careful, mom. I know what I did wrong, and I’ve got a plan for going out again.” Chris mumbled out the sentence between mouthfuls of bread and butter. He felt Dilla brush across his feet, as it crawled beneath the table to avoid a beam of sun shining through the window and interrupting its rest.

“Chris, we’re worried.” She motioned to Issac. “You’ve got all the time in the world, I just don’t want you to rush things.” 

“Why don’t you tell her about your plan, kiddo? It might put h- Put us both at ease if we know what you’re going to do.” Dad swiftly corrected himself, leaning forward expectantly.

Mentally going over his travel plan again, Chris took a large sip of tea to wash down the crumbs. 

“I’m going to contract a Primigon. It’ll be safer with three of us,” he began, lifting up his thumb to count the steps.

“And then I’ll look for somebody to travel with if I can. If not, I’ll stick close to the Primigon and stay on the path. No more wandering off into the province, I’ll always make sure both monsters can be seen.” 

He extended another finger as he spoke.

“I’ll spend today training up the monsters just outside the farm, and be home for dinner. That way, they’ll get a bit stronger before we go into the wild. Quaver has been getting a bit stronger from fights. We’ll stay within the fences, try to avoid all trouble, and make our way to Mill town from there.” 

He looked down at his pack, noticing that it was a great deal lighter than before. The contracts had all tumbled out when the beast tore the bag open. He still had his journal, fortunately, but that was one of the few remaining objects. His survival knife, thermos and lighter were gone, but nothing that couldn’t be replaced. The pearl sat snug within its box, having escaped the fate of the lost contracts.

“When I reach Mill town, I’ll make sure to call you guys, and camp on the outside. Or see if any public places have rest stops I could sleep in. I’ll stock up on supplies and stay close to people who can help out, and move on after that.”

Issac nodded as Chris shared his thoughts, looking to mom expectantly. She bit her lower lip in concern, before sighing and pushing her empty plate away. He could tell she was relenting. After thinking for almost a minute, chewing her bread the whole time, she sighed and spoke up. 

“Okay. Please come right back if you need anything, sweetie. Just be safe out there, don’t take risks.” She stood up and offered the crumb-laden plate to Dilla, who licked the porcelain enthusiastically. “But don’t go tame a wild Primigon. Take the one we got last week, you were the one who contracted it anyway.” 

Chris looked out of the window. Quaver, coincidentally, was bugging that same Primigon. It had bulked up a little bit from pulling carts around and plowing the fields with its brute strength. He could tell that dad had been taking it out to fight other monsters, but it was far from reaching the peak power that had been promised when it accepted the contract. 

It would make a good second partner. The boy quickly scarfed down breakfast and made his way outside before his mom could change her mind. Chris strolled towards the orange beast, with Quaver hovering over to join him along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to put here in the notes, especially since this and the next chapter are being released back to back. I also realised upon uploading this that dad's name is 'Issac' instead of 'Isaac', and I need to edit it in all the previous chapters. Whew.


	9. The Wild's Will

“Teedon! Do- Uh, do a skull slam!” 

The blue dinosaur obliged, leaping forward to crash into the Primigon and begin the battle. It quickly retreated after slamming into the creature’s flank. The brutish grazer turned around, yellow eyes glaring at monster and tamer alike. It snorted in annoyance and lowered its head to charge.

Chris backed away as the dinosaur took its place, baiting the monster away from him like a little blue matador. It gnashed its teeth and growled at the Primigon, who tore the earth up as it sped straight for the small creature. It slammed into Teedon, who went flying backwards and landed on its feet. The boy looked back at the farmhouse in the distance, gripping a huge bundle of contracts.

It was his first time out here controlling a monster. Dad felt he was ready, and had entrusted his own partner to him. His mission was to tame one of the beasts of burden, so it could get the fields ready for planting. While it wasn’t a huge undertaking, the aspiring tamer was nervous about the taming. His hands trembled as he ordered the dinosaur forward, deciding to get right into the thick of things. 

“Bite it!” 

Teedon ran towards the Primigon, noting its lowered head. The beast met it with a devastating charge of its bony skull. Rather than attempt to match it in raw force, Teedon leapt up, little claws landing right on the head of the creature. Before the Primigon could toss it off, Teedon lunged for its back and sank its teeth deep into the muscle. Orange flesh was ripped open as the triangular fangs locked in place. It thrashed and groaned in agony, bucking wildly in an attempt to shake the dinosaur off. Chris jogged backwards to avoid the chaos. 

It was almost comedic, the way Teedon’s legs flailed about as they were tossed through the air. Its jaws remained sealed in the monster’s back. The fledgeling tamer could tell that it was in a great deal of pain, and that the dinosaur had shown its capability. He pulled one of the scrolls out, glad that they had reached this point so quickly. Chris lifted it up and called out to the monster, grabbing its attention.

The blue monster relinquished its grip ever so slightly, letting its soaked muzzle loosen and leak thick blood onto the earth. Rivers of red ran down the back of the wounded Primigon as it looked over the offered pact. For a moment, Chris thought the beast was going to run him down and trample him into the dirt. Wild, yellow eyes locked with his own, as it lowered its head in submission. Teedon pulled itself free and scrambled down the monster’s back. The runes of the contract glowed bright, and a seal burned itself into place near the bottom. Chris rolled it up and sighed in relief.

The pact had been made.

-

As he approached the Primigon, it lifted its chin in recognition. Its short tusks were grimy and caked in dirt from foraging for wild tubers. It was definitely a bit stronger compared to when he tamed it.

“Hey. Remember me?” He held a hand out tentatively, intending on setting it straight on the beast’s snout. Primigon were a lot more receptive to being touched, as compared to a devilish spectre like Quaver, or a violent hunter like Teedon. He was the creature’s tamer, so it was bound to obey him, right?

As he approached, the beast snorted harshly, feet pounding against the dirt. He backed away and lifted his palms placatingly.

“Easy, easy! I contracted you, remember? Chris.”

While it didn’t react to his name, it definitely seemed to recognise him. The beast had been watching him warily throughout the past week, though he hadn’t had a chance to get up close with it since then. It had mostly been doing farm work and taken out on forays by dad. Chris tried to touch it again, but the Primigon thrust its head forward at him. He retreated behind a fence, not wanting to be headbutted.

“What’s wrong? Hey!” Chris examined the creature closely. It didn’t seem injured or ailing, so why was it acting so defensive? Did Quaver do something wrong? He looked up at his Hooclaw, who seemed to be delighting in the awkward situation. 

The Primigon tossed its head in the direction of the barn, still eyeing the tamer. Chris spared a glance and saw dad and Teedon wandering towards it, the latter having several planks over his shoulder. 

And then it clicked.

He wasn’t worthy just yet, in the eyes of the monster. He had just been a proxy, after all. Teedon wasn’t his monster, it had been loaned from dad when he tamed the Primigon. And the bulky beast realised that. Issac was who it thought of as its tamer, not him. The fact that Chris offered the contract meant nothing, he had passed it to dad and the older man had been the one training the Primigon the whole time.

“… Okay. I get it. So, what do you want me to do?”

The Primigon glared up at Quaver, examining the giggling spectre. It tossed its wide skull and met Chris’ eyes, stomping the dirt and preparing for battle. The answer was obvious.

“Alright. Quaver, let’s go.”

It was time to show the monster what they could do.

“Quaver, slice! Go low!” 

While the beast was capable of reaching great speeds and building up immense force with a reckless charge, it took awhile for it to get going. The spectre was far more agile in close quarters. Quaver quickly scraped across the forelimb of the Primigon, slicing into the limb almost deep enough to strike bone. Chris winced. It wouldn’t do to permanently wound this foe. By now, the two of them had figured out a reliable way of fighting quadrupedal monsters. The ankles were always the key. Sever a tendon there and the limb was unusable. In this case, however, they would have to show restraint; something the Hooclaw had trouble with.

“Not so ha-” his command was cut off by the beast grinding to a halt and lifting a leg to kick backwards. It nailed his monster in the back of the head, sending the lightweight creature spiralling away in a puff of black mist. The stubborn beast snorted and turned around, meaty haunches rippling with veins and muscles. 

The blow had hit his partner hard. The Hooclaw was agile and deadly, but relatively fragile. Against a monster with this much meat and bulk, the surgical strikes would have trouble doing damage. Impeding its movements were the only way to go. Despite the brutish nature of the Primigon, it was no simpleton. The golden irises betrayed an animalistic intelligence. If the two of them got predictable, it would be easy to stomp or kick them again.

They’d have to change tactics. Quaver floated back into view, his impish face contorted in fury. The Primigon charged straight for the spirit, and Chris motioned for it to fly straight up. Quaver focused wholly on evading the attack, taking to the sky and reuniting with Chris as the beast charged past. It trampled a cluster of flowers and nearly plowed into a fence before turning back, snorting disdainfully as if to say: ‘Is that all?’. 

It came back towards the duo, head lowered for a charge. By now, Issac and Teedon had taken notice from the other end of the field. The energetic reptile seemed eager to intervene, but Issac leaned down to set a finger on his monster. He gently stroked the crest between its eyes. 

“Easy, easy. Let’s keep watching and see how they do.”

Chris leaned in to whisper to his monster, rapidly barking out instructions as the monster lumbered. Quaver peeled away to draw its attention once the Primigon picked up speed. As it passed by, the scythe-wielding trickster twirled through the air. It kept the very tip of its blade in the charging beast’s path, scraping across its side as it stomped across the field. The attack drew a line of blood across the orange fur, but the wound was superficial. It failed to faze the monster. The Hooclaw giggled regardless, gleefully floating about to aggravate the monster. The Primigon seemed to be losing patience. They had failed to land a severe enough strike so far. Even with the wound on its short-clawed foot, the monster was still charging without a care. Seems like it had high pain tolerance, or they just didn’t get the right spot.

If they didn’t turn the battle around soon, the monster would completely lose interest in returning to Chris’ custody. The stubborn beast wouldn’t change its mind again after they failed once. The boy hoped that his partner had heard the rest of his plan clearly.

Quaver evaded the monster’s charge, careful not to be struck by the huge expanse of bone. The attack would take out the tangible spirit instantly on a direct hit. The Hooclaw still remembered how the mysterious monster batted it away. Shame and indignation flushed through the creature as it recalled the defeat. Red eyes glinting with malice, it chased after the Primigon as it ran past, eager to take its frustration out on the bulky beast. It didn’t have its fill of that last night.

While the scythe would likely splinter if it tried to strike the skull, the rest of the monster’s body was still soft and vulnerable. The muscles made it a little tougher to cut through, so it opted to swing the blade in an arc and chop at the Primigon’s leg like an icepick. Quaver spun its whole body around, turning into a dark blur as it sank the tip into the back of the primigon’s knee. It quickly pulled the weapon out from between two stout bones, letting its foe stumble forward unsteadily.

Chris watched the exchange. Everything was going according to plan. He really appreciated what the Primigon would bring to the team. While Quaver was good for precision, the spirit boasted no overwhelming power on its own. He hoped that Hooclaw could learn more magical attacks, malevolent spirits tended to do well with those. With a Primigon, it could provide a raw wall of muscle to deliver devastating blows with. 

The Primigon looked a bit wary now that its gait was thrown off-rhythm. With its leg wounded like that, kicking backwards would hurt far too much. Especially when it had to place weight on the gash on its front leg. It hadn’t been hit with a huge strike yet, but the two seemed to have some level of competence, at least. It lumbered towards its puny foe one final time, intending on the next charge being the last. It would make its decision after, on whether to rejoin the boy who had enticed it, or continue training and competing on the farm.

Quaver positioned itself between the brute and a thick oak. The monster charged blindly, aiming to pummel it against the bark and crush it with all its might. Quaver allowed itself to be struck by the head and dragged along, gripping on to the skull with the blade as it did so. A puff of smoke was forced out of the spirit’s head wound, but it held strong. Grabbing on to the charging beast prevented the force from tearing through its fragile body. The scythe scraped against the bone harmlessly, as the Primigon howled triumphantly, intent on slamming Quaver against the nearest solid surface.

And slam it did. But the spirit wasn’t pinned. It quickly pushed off a moment before impact, halting itself mid-air as the Primigon crashed into the bark and sent a shower of leaves floating towards the earth. The larger beast was stunned upon impact, though the thick bone completely protected its head from harm. While it was getting its bearings, Quaver swung its scythe over and over, rotating in the air like a spinning top and descending towards the back of the beast.

The blade struck true, with the curved tip stabbing deep into the back of the monster. It remained wedged in place, the single blade twisting and contorting within the wound; Almost like how Teedon attacked the first time. The Primigon groaned in pain and shook from side to side, rearing up to pound its paws into the ground in an attempt to dislodge the Hooclaw. It was in there tight, however, not so easily torn out. 

Chris lifted a spare contract he had picked up along the way, holding it out before him. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything, there was already a contract made. But the creature turned to face him, chest rising and falling from the exertion of battle. It slowly lowered its head to touch the ground, submitting to its new tamer.

He was worthy.

With a cruel twist, Quaver ripped itself out of the wound, eliciting another groan of pain from the large beast. Quaver bobbed in front of its face and cackled, deftly dodging as the Primigon tried to smack him with the side of its head. Chris quickly headed over to intervene, guiding his monsters out of the battlefield. After recuperating, they still had a whole day ahead of them to train.

Heavy feet left imprints in the dirt as the Primigon followed after him. The party of three walked towards the farmhouse for a well-earned rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Primigon tamed. I thought it might be interesting to have the Primigon tamed at the start of the game and be used as a partner later. I was thinking of having Teedon be brought along for the ride. But considering the intro screen of MC, and the fact that some past with dad and Teedon was implied, I didn't think it would be for the best for Issac to give up his partner.
> 
> I'm excited to introduce fusion and breeding, but I'm not entirely sure where crossbreeds are introduced in the game yet, so I'll either have to wait for more streams/info or come up with my own interpretations. I've gradually been writing longer chapters, and I'm looking forward to improving my writing and quality as I go forward.
> 
> After the next chapter ties up a loose end and continues the journey, I'll be doing a little perspective shift to cover a new character. There's that to look forward to!


	10. Problem

The afternoon was uneventful. Primigon proved its worth fairly quickly. It trampled a cocky Rodask into the dirt without much issue, and kept a herd of wandering Laz far away from Chris. The shambling group continued on its way, no doubt seeking to add more Apo to their number. As mindless as they were, the corrupted puppeteers knew better than to mess with the growing group. 

Soon came the moment for Chris to depart the farm again. He waved goodbye to his parents for the second time. Two monsters stayed by his side, silent guardians among the verdant plains. Windmill blades spun lazily and ripples of motion blasted through the grass. Quaver seemed to be in a good mood once again, now that they were back on the road and ready to get back into action. It had been a little annoyed that the Primigon was getting to battle more often, but Chris wanted to establish a bond with the newer partner. 

A cloying scent made its way through the air and danced before his nostrils. Chris turned towards the source. He had been here a couple days ago, and the same floral scent was being carried upon the breeze. The boy squinted in the direction of a large river, with no bridge leading past it. His Primigon paid a bit more attention to the scene than Quaver did. Finally, they figured there was no way to actually go investigate, and they went onwards instead. 

Though he tried several times, Primigon refused to let him get onto its back. He wasn’t sure if the monster just didn’t like it, or couldn’t take his weight, but the bulky beast was not a suitable mount. A real pity. When he was a child, he had always dreamed of riding on one of the thick-skulled beasts. Quaver cackled gleefully as the annoyed beast shook Chris off it. He sighed and accepted his fate: Walking. 

Once evening rolled about, Chris set up camp right by the road. A sense of unease was flooding into him once more. Although he was far from the location, he was still afraid that the mystery monster would pop up out of thin air. It had chased them all the way to the path, after all. Every crackle in the dark and rustling of leaves sent waves of fear through him. Quaver seemed to pick up on his growing terror. Despite how swift it usually was to mess with him, the spirit didn’t take the chance this time. It whistled at the tamer. Chris looked up as the Hooclaw wandered into the darkness. Its red eyes were visible in the murky blackness, illuminated by the rippling firelight. The monster began its patrol of the camp, keeping the perimeter clear. 

Comforted by the gesture, Chris set his head on his pack and closed his eyes. The Primigon snorted and settled down into the dirt, keeping a yellow eye out. 

-

The chirping of birds woke Chris from his sleep. Quaver was nowhere to be seen, but he doubted that the little creature had left him alone while he was snoozing. Primigon was already up and enjoying a cluster of mushrooms by a tree trunk. 

Chris sat down to eat breakfast, going through the replenished contents of his leather bag. His dad had given him two more contracts, and he had the pearl stashed away. A new knife and thermos were present. He sighed wistfully, regretting the loss of his previous blade- It had been a gift from his dad on his eleventh birthday. Chris chewed on a hunk of bread until Quaver flew back into view. The creature’s blade was slick with blood. He raised an eyebrow as Quaver wiped its scythe clean on a branch.

They travelled at a leisurely pace. This time, Chris acted with a bit more caution. The cocky attitude he had held after their first victory streak had died back in the dewy clearing. He made sure to pick their battles carefully, only going for individual Laz or Rodask. Primigon pounded another rotten corpse into the earth, and the youth couldn’t help but feel grateful that only Apo got infected by the fungus. 

Onwards they went. Soon, they reached a series of torn fences and shattered wood. Nobody would come to repair this for a little while. None of his saviours were anywhere to be seen either.

Dad had told him that a man in a fancy suit and hat brought him back to the farm, accompanied by a small posse. The group had been on their way shortly after. He couldn’t help but notice the pained look on his father’s face when he talked about it.

“Don’t go looking for them,” Isaac had ordered. “They aren’t people you want to be in debt to.” 

That was all his father had said about the situation. Chris pushed it out of his mind as a blur of motion sped across the path. Primigon lowered its head in preparation to charge. 

The blue Rodask stopped by a fence post. It lifted a hoof to scratch at its own head. Quaver slowly drifted towards it, prepared for a battle. It didn’t seem interested in them, just sniffing the ground and eyeing the treeline. Chris had never seen one with this colour before.

As he reached for a contract, a sound from the trees startled the creature. It perked up and sprinted off the dirt road. It was gone in an instant, outmatching even Quaver’s swift blade. All three of them watched in disbelief, standing there as the cloud of dust settled. Eventually they continued walking, still thinking about the mysterious sighting. 

Finally, Chris reached a stretch of road. Loud voices came from up ahead, piercing the silence. Cigar smoke drifted into the air as the group of men stood around. 

“Man, those thugs have nothin’ on us! We own the streets! Not some wannabe punks,” yelled a grey-suited man. 

Chris stopped in his tracks to examine the group. They stood in a circle, dressed to the nines despite the sweltering heat. The group was a mix of young and old. Some looked to be his dad’s age, and others were young adults. 

“They ain’t got class either.” The other men nodded in agreement. “All they do is bum about, stick their chins out, and strut around the corners!”

“That’s ‘cause they’re out for themselves. We help the little people. We-”

“We’ve got a shadow, pipe down.”

A man in a brown suit was abruptly silenced. The speaker’s voice was gruff and gravelly, commanding power and radiating strength. Chris flinched as the man walked towards him. While he was the shortest out of the group, the others immediately set their jaws tight and fell in line. The man in black was old and stoic, wrinkles running across his face. He didn’t have a hat on, allowing his black, slicked-back hair to be seen.

Mumbles filled the air as the man marched towards Chris. His stormy eyes settled on the boy’s own.

“Aw crap, who knows what he’s heard?”

“You kiddin’? All you guys’ve been goin’ on about’s been pointless drivel! Don’t get your boxers in a bunch!”

“We still don’t need some kid messin’ with us.” 

Quaver seemed prepared to strike. As it floated forward, four metallic clicks sounded from the awaiting gangsters. Their hands sat on their holsters, ready to draw their weapons if the Hooclaw took a step further. As cheeky as it was, the threat was enough to give even the spirit pause. Chris gulped as the old man stopped in front of him.

“You.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“I know you.”

Chris’ heart sank. The old man knew him? Black fabric rustled softly, as the man calmly set a hand on his shoulder. He moved with grace and power, like a stalking Hyna. He commanded one’s gaze with every motion. The pauses between his words were tense and unsettling. 

“I.. Uh… I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”

The four others squinted at Chris. Finally, the one in brown snapped his fingers.

“Yeah, yeah! You’re the kid! Remember, boys? That kid!” 

The group mumbled in agreement. The gears finally clicked in Chris’ head.

“A-ah! You guys…”

“We did,” said the black-suited man, keeping the hand firmly on his shoulder. He was barely taller than Chris. He wrapped an arm around him, firmly guiding the boy further down the path. The old man was wide open, leaving his neck exposed to Quaver. Yet, despite the clear chance to strike, and the tense situation its owner was in, the Hooclaw hesitated to strike. It refused to move forward, the grin sliding off its face and being replaced by unease.

“Let’s you and me go for a little walk, hm?”  
He could only nod weakly. Primigon lingered close behind, growing increasingly aggravated. The gangsters eyed it warily as Chris and the man headed down the road, Quaver trailing in their wake.

-

“Your name, boy?”

“C-Chris. Where are we-”

“Alfonso. You haven’t forgotten what happened already, have you?”

The young tamer fell silent, shoulders tensing up as he waited for Alfonso to continue.

“Now, we helped you out of a real bind, Chris. I’m curious to know what happened.”

He stopped in his tracks and released Chris, out of earshot from the other gangsters. He took a step back and crossed his arms, eyeing the boy coldly. 

“Go on now, we don’t have all day.

Voice trembling, Chris began to recite the story, starting from when he wandered off the path. Alfonso turned towards the forest, a soft snort sounding as he heard of their defeat. He listened patiently as Chris described the encounter, fumbling over his words several times and backpedalling to correct details. Alfonso remained steadfastly quiet throughout, unsettling him further. Finally, Chris reached the end.

“And, uh, that’s it. We passed out after that, and… You guys took me back home?” 

“That we did.” 

Alfonso flicked a lighter open, cupping a hand around it to shield the flame from the constant breeze. He lifted it to his cigar and took a long drag. 

“We saved your life. Reckon it would have torn you apart and spilt your entrails across the path.” 

Chris shuddered at the thought. He now knew what his dad was talking about, when he had warned him against finding the gangsters. As luck would have it, he had done just that. 

“T-thank you! I, uh-” Chris stopped himself from saying anything along the lines of ‘I’m grateful’. “Thanks. But I really gotta go, and-” 

Alfonso lifted a hand, immediately causing the teen to trail off. Quaver seemed to be getting a little antsy, annoyance with the situation building up within the malevolent spirit. Stronger than its anger, however, was the sense of danger it felt. Quaver knew beyond a doubt that if it attacked, something bad would happen.

“See, we did you a favour. You’re just crossin’ over into the real world, so maybe you don’t know how this works. Someone scratch your back, you do the same when they need it. Capiche?” 

He nodded quietly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We have a bit of a problem up ahead. You going to Mill town?”

Chris nodded again, still not daring to say anything else.

“Good. Then it’s your problem too.” 

The man motioned for the whole group to follow. They fell in line and jogged forward to catch up, Chris’ Primigon not far behind. They were nearing a bridge now, and a running river bubbled and frothed. 

“What… Is that?” 

Chris looked up in alarm, spotting an obstruction on the bridge. Was that a boulder? It was wet and bulbous, causing the bridge to sag with its sheer weight. It was quite a bit taller than him too. 

And then it moved.

Wood creaked dangerously as the beast shifted, turning its gaze towards the group. It almost seemed to be smiling, the corners of its mouth pulled up behind two long tusks.

“That’s our problem, kiddo. And you’ll be solving it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been swamped with work for quite a while. Here's the next chapter. Quality and style might be a bit of a mismatch compared to the last one, since I'm a bit rusty. Also heavy on dialogue this time round. But yeah! Gangsters introduced and all that.


	11. Fresh Faces

A brown missile streaked through the undergrowth, hot in pursuit of its fleeing quarry. The monster’s young tamer panted as he followed along, struggling to keep up. It wasn’t that he was out of shape. Far from it. But even with his constant exercise, Bob couldn’t match his Canite in sheer strength, speed, and tenacity. The savage monster had boundless fury contained in its muscular body. The young tamer emerged from the underbrush just in time to see his monster tackle a wild beast. Both of them went tumbling across the grassy earth, crunching leaves and snapping twigs in their path of destruction. The Canite, seeing a chance, thrust its snout forward and snapped its jaws. Sharp canines clashed against the hard plating of the Rodask’s ‘mask’, glancing off and leaving a shallow nick. The slippery rodent managed to escape from beneath the larger hunter, rolling a distance away and turning to face its adversary.

“Stinky! Attack! Go straight for it, don’t let it run!”  
  
For a long, stressful moment, Stinky stood still to size up its opponent instead. Bob prepared to start sprinting again. While his Canite had arrived well-trained, it still had remnants of its wild instincts. One of the most annoying habits for a Canite Tamer to deal with was their penchant for standoffs. Rather than run their opponent down and tear their throats out, Canites tended to stand still and observe foes that they saw as equals. It was part of their ‘All-or-Nothing’ style of resolving pack disputes up in the mountains. It helped when the two fought certain monsters, but it was more detrimental than anything when Stinky did it to a skittish, flighty monster like Rodask. All it did was give prey a chance to run away. The hoofed rodent pawed at the ground, and Bob could tell that it was either going to lunge or flee.

Another chase would be annoying. He’d fall behind, and Stinky would have to stop chasing to come back for him, lest he be stuck in the woods without a monster for company. Luckily, the Rodask decided to lunge forward instead, baring its squarish teeth and going straight for Stinky. The brutish beast leapt to meet it mid-air, and the both of them twisted their bodies to sink their fangs into each other. A high-pitched whine sounded through the forest, sending droves of toothed birds fluttering into the air. Bob winced at the near-human sound, doing his best not to show his fear. It wouldn’t do to appear weak in front of his monster— especially when he was meant to be the alpha. The Rodask screamed and screamed, its cry so loud that the young tamer feared some other predator would be drawn in. Perhaps it’d be the hulking beast that he had to deal with a short while ago. Without the help of the gunmen from before, he wouldn’t be able to drive such a thing away again. Even when one stuck to the path, there was danger.

_ “Especially with idiots leading things all the way out of the woods.” _

He pushed his thoughts out of his mind and watched as Stinky handled the Rodask. The huge monster was only a little smaller than his Canite, but the predator was far superior in strength. Stinky forced the Rodask into the dirt, his longest fangs extending deep into the bleeding creature’s neck.  
  
“Stinky, dark tooth!” He ordered. 

The purple hooves of the rodent wiggled frantically, kicking out at the dirt and smacking against the Canite’s body. Stinky put an end to the flailing with a savage crunch. A thin vapour streamed from within its sharp fangs as it snapped the Rodask’s neck, wisping up into the air and being dispelled in the wind. Yet another secret that the monster held. Bob headed forward to claim the Rodask, and Stinky willingly relinquished the entire quarry. It eyed the young tamer suspiciously, baring its bloodied teeth. He reached a hand out to stroke his monster between the ears, feeling the coarse, oily fur beneath his fingers.  
  
“I know, buddy,” he muttered, his voice soft but stern. “You’ll get your share. I promise. Same as always.” 

Together, the two emerged from the woods and trekked back towards their camp. 

-

Bob heard the sound of the flowing creek long before he spotted his firepit. Seycret was there waiting for them, evident by the trails of dirt around the site. The burrowing forager was a new addition to the team. He couldn’t resist offering it a pact after it had helped them out of a real bind the other day, when their camp got trampled in the middle of the night. Drawn by the noise, it had emerged from its burrow and helped ward off the group of disgruntled, frightened Primigon. Bob and Stinky demonstrated their strength well in the fight, and the scarlet monster was impressed enough to join their team. 

The youth settled down by the firepit and got to work, comforted by the sound of running water. He pulled his knife from its sheath and started carving up the Rodask, doing his best to not look into its vibrant, yet dead eyes. As he skinned it, the sun beat down harshly upon them, hardly dissuaded by the ever-present breeze of the province. His blonde hair alternated between sticking to his sweaty forehead and being tossed about in the wind. Finally, he managed to cut the pelt away from the Rodask. Bob tossed it to the side, allowing Stinky and Seycret to tussle for the chewtoy. It wasn’t like he needed the hide, and even if he were to keep it, he wouldn’t know turn it into leather. Better to let his two restless beasts get some stimulation from it. Their squabbling would keep them sharp. 

He huffed in annoyance as the bladder burst open. Fortunately, it had happened while he was pulling out the entrails, and not a second too soon. The entire carcass would’ve been fouled otherwise. He nearly pinched his nose, before realising that his arms were covered up to the elbow in blood. The boy dropped it into a heap instead, groaning at the smell of ammonia and… Other things. Seycret wouldn’t mind snacking on it, but Stinky’s sense of smell was too sensitive. The Canite wouldn’t want to go anywhere near it. Already, he could see his monster inching away from the heap of pungent waste, leaving Seycret to the entire pelt.

Finally, he started up the fire and began cooking. The two powerful hind limbs were left to his monsters, and the rest of the Rodask was impaled on a spit. Bob washed his arms clean in the creek, in the meantime, careful to get the caked gore out of his fingernails. He dried his knife with a scrap of cloth and set it back into its leather sheath, before settling down with a journal while waiting for the meat to be done.

He flipped through dozens of filled pages, each covered end-to-end in scribbles, doodles, and sketches. His most recent one was of Seycret, done with a tiny nib of charcoal. He had made sure to capture all the essential details— the protective shell, the long tail, the little barbs of bone hidden beneath sparse fur, huge claws that served to scoop dirt out of burrows. While some tamers liked to keep notes on their monsters, he preferred to draw them out like this instead. It helped him get a bead on them, and paint a better picture of where the muscles were, how they moved, and where their weak points were located. 

Even among individual monsters, there were tons of little variants that were worth taking a look at. His Canite, for instance, had a couple more stripes than average. The dark bands seemed to completely coat Stinky’s tail, giving him a bushy, Hani-like appendage. And this unnamed Seycret had slightly tinier ears than most, along with a chipped right claw. 

It was something he was interested in studying; individual variances in monsters of the same species. Some monsters were stronger than others, even if they had gone through the exact same experiences. And he wanted to find out why. That was the main goal he had in mind when he left the Desperado Province with his new monster. The young Tamer had lofty aspirations of being a prominent researcher in the future. 

Perhaps it was something as simple as coming from stronger ancestors. But it was something he was interested in quantifying and learning more about. He would’ve gone straight for the Raptor Mountains to compare Stinky with other Canite, but his parents had forbidden him from going that way so early in his journey. Instead, they had sent him in the direction of the Windy Province a couple of weeks ago, to gather strength and tame monsters in a less intense part of the island.

So far, the journey had been uneventful. He had spent some time training in the desert before coming down here. Stinky had shed a substantial amount out in the sweltering heat. The Desperado desert was definitely not where his partner was meant to be. By the time enough of his coarse coat had fallen off, they’d reached the far cooler Mill Town, and then the windswept reaches of the province. Stinky looked a lot more comfortable here, among trees and grass. While it wasn’t as cold as the mountains, he wasn’t suffering from sweltering heat and the choking dryness. 

Apart from the brief trouble he had found in the Windy Province, in the form of some mystery monster he had to save a stranger from, it was a pretty nice place. He could see why one would want to settle here. Plus, it was all the way on an edge of Crown Island. It was peaceful, isolated, and quiet most of the time. Safe, most importantly. Sure, Seycret could kill people easily, but so could most of the monsters in their little slice of the known world. 

Bob was snapped out of his thoughts by Stinky, who approached and nuzzled the side of his leg. Bob stopped working on a meaningless doodle, and rose from his seat to rotate the meat. Both Stinky and the Seycret had finished their portion of meat, and were eagerly awaiting Bob to portion out more of the Alpha’s share. The young tamer sat back down to wait, smelling the gamey, pungent odour of the Rodask carcass. Not for the first time, he wished he was back home, where they had a whole slew of spices to lather over wild meat and wash out the taste. 

-

Bob watched as Seycret put out the last of the glowing embers. The red burrower was expertly digging up dirt with its shovel-like claws, pouring them onto the dying flames in huge swathes. Once the firepit was full extinguished, he dumped the remaining bits of the meal into the Seycret’s hole, allowing it to cover it up. Hopefully, no scavengers would come and dig it up, apart from more of the burrowing monsters. He wiped a bit of Rodask grease off his face and continued onwards. Once he reached the edge of the island, he would turn back and head back home. Stinky was getting stronger by the day, as he built up more fighting experience, and the Seycret didn’t seem to be doing too bad either. 

All things considered, his journey was going great so far. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided that it was a good time to swap perspective. Introducing Bob, who's a bit more seasoned than Chris, and who has different motivations for setting out on a journey. Looking forward to writing more of both characters!


End file.
